On the strings of the rails
by Die Krote
Summary: They needed no words, because there's no need to say a thing as long as the orchester can play on the strings of the rails. A songfic.


**I decided to put the author's note at the beginning, because song is pretty emotional and I hope I will build feelings you won't want to ruin with my balbber.**

 **Song used is 'Na strunach szyn' (on the strings of the rails) from Polish musical 'Metro', created by Janusz Józefowicz and Janusz Stokłosa. I recommend listening to the song while reading, although it is a bit too happy for some moments. There's also a little problem, as older version has much better vocals, but the text I used is from the new one (diffrence of one line, really). Here's a link, btw:**

 **watch?v=3fZuFU45KSo**

 **And 'Metro' is the best musical of all time. Believe me. It is generally about young people seeking fame, who are rejected by a theatre, so they create their own. Scene at which Maks from thetre goes to propose them a job is pure art, almost all songs are pure art, Maks is pure art, ending makes you cry, Jan's songs are perfect and I can relate to him so much, ugh. Sadly, I don't think there's an English subbed version on internet, but there are some songs from Broadway version, which are, of course, in English. However, translations are pretty different from original meaning...**

 **There is a little thing and it is word 'cel', which I translated to 'destination'. But it can be used in a looot of contexts. It generally means every single thing you want to achieve or reach, so it means aim, goal, destination, target and few other things. In this case it's probably mostly about life goal, but as it is not totally clear and the song has a lot to do with trains and rails, I thought destination will fit perfectly.**

 **Hope, that this time signs dividing this part from the other will stay in place...**

 _To znaczy tak niewiele, prawie nic,  
W półmroku jego twarz, monety błysk,  
Tylko dotknięcie ciepłe rąk,  
Gdzieś w tunelu metra song,  
Na twardej ławce kilka słów  
Jakaś ballada, jakiś blues..._

 _[It means so little, almost nothing ,  
His face in dim light, flash of a coin,  
Just warm touch of hands,  
A song somewhere in underground tunnel,  
Few words on a hard bench,  
Some ballad, some blues...]_

Small warm smiles in the dim light of every basement or underground passage they passed. Corner of his lips curling upwards just a tiny bit. Sent to her every time, she succeeded. Or when she tried. Or just because. Saying 'It's good to have you at my side'. Showing her, she matters and she is not a terrible person. How much does it mean?

Every time he helped her up or handle anything to her, he let their hands to touch for a bit longer, than necessary. His finger tips were rough and left nice, warm sensation. Saying 'I like you and I trust you'. Words she heard so rarely, too rarely. How much does it mean?

Little talks in that moments between parts of missions. Just simple little talks. Containing some sincere compliments and confessions. Something given to her only by very few people, people she knew for ages. So getting as much trust from a man met just few weeks before was saying 'You are a trustworthy person'. Something almost no one was ever saying to her. How much does it mean?

It means nothing. It really means nothing. At least that was, what she had been thinking hour ago, before it all had happened. Before she changed the sides, before Klaus was turned into stone, before she realized, how much it actually meant to her. Before the bubble of illusive comfort, created during last weeks, popped loudly.

 _Czy może świat odmienić jeden gest  
I czyjeś słowa dwa, co brzmią jak wiersz?  
Powrotny bilet czytam dziś,  
Jak od ciebie niewysłany list,  
Może odnajdę właśnie tu,  
Miejsce na ziemi, mały punkt..._

 _[Can world be changed by a one gesture  
And somebody's two words, which sound like poem?  
I'm reading a return ticket  
Like a not sent letter from you,  
Maybe I'll find here  
My place on Earth, little spot]_

It happened just few hours before. A simple talk on a train, which got more serious. Strange electricty in the air, pleasant chills going down their spines. Words, that made her whole world freeze, awaiting. Sudden heat. Did this really affected her so much?

Could it actually happen? Did she really give up her mission, because of this? Because of one beautiful moment?

She didn't dare to look up, to meet his gaze. After all, she knew, what view to expect. Hurt. Hurt, because he trusted her and she ruined it. He wouldn't believe, if she said, that at some point it stopped to be a little act, the game, that at some point she started to be as honest as she could, without blowing up her cover. That at some point she fell for him so much, that fulfilling the task became too painful. But he didn't know that.

Instead of looking at them, at her 'friends', she was holding her ticket and squeezing it, folding the corners and rolling it. Her hands just had to get occupied by something, not to push nails into flesh of arms. It was going to happen anyway, but the later the better.

What did she think? What, she changed the sides and then? What did she think? What would happen? They would accept her and they would start from the beginning? How could she be so stupid?

Why the fuck you get so close to them, Zhalia?, she thought angrily, trying hard not to burst into tears. Why the fuck you are so stupid?

 _Sens niemówionych słów,  
Dźwięk niezagranych nut,  
Blask niezapalonych jeszcze lamp,  
Nie mów nic, na strunach szyn  
Orkiestra może grać_

 _[Sense of unspoken words,  
Sound of not played notes,  
Light of lamps, that aren't turned on yet,  
Don't say a thing, orchestra can play on the strings of the rails]_

Dante was eyeing her. Of course, he felt hurt. But after he thought a bit more, he decided, she wasn't the one to blame. After all, she was just fulfilling her mission and then actually saved them. Of course, it was miserable excuse, but he wanted to find anything except inner feeling, that she is trustworthy and good after all.

For him, she needed no excuse, actually. That was stupid and he knew it. After all, too much of faith in people's good intentions always was his weakness. But something made him forgive her immediately. Maybe this warmth he felt every time, when he caught the smallest smile of hers?

 _Dźwięk niezagranych nut,  
Sens niewyznanych słów,  
Blask niezapalonych jeszcze lamp,  
Nie mów nic, na strunach szyn  
Orkiestra może grać._

 _[Sound of not played notes,  
Sense of not confessed words,  
Light of the lamps, that aren't turned on yet,  
Don't say a thing, orchestra can play on the strings of the rails.]_

She did it. She looked up, directly at him. Right into two bright ambers. At which point did she get, that she was going to fail her mission because of them?

His eyes were bright, warm and comforting. And there wasn't even the most shallow trace of anger on these precious gems. Just a tiny smudge of sadness.

Quickly, woman looked down. Seeing, that he's not angry, made her feel even worse. How could she hurt this heavenly patient and understanding man? Anger would make her feel far less guilty. He forgave all bad things, she had done to him. Why he kept giving her another chances? It was so extremely painful for something inside her.

 _Szukałam zawsze ciebie, dobrze wiem,  
Nie muszę dalej iść, by znaleźć cel,  
Nowe podróże, chociaż raz na plakacie moja twarz,  
To już nieważne, powiedz mi, że chcesz na zawsze za mną być _

_[I was looking for you my whole life, I know  
I don't have to go further, to find my destination  
New travels, my face on a poster just one time  
That doesn't matter anymore, tell me, that you want to stay with me forever]_

At which point did she get, how much she needs him?

All of the things, she thought she dreamt of, success, respect, authority. What did they mean, compared to people?

At that moment, when she got, she lost both her old friends, that she lost all that stupid, miserable kids, she belonged to and that stupid Don Kichots, Foundation operatives were, she got, how much she needs people and their love. Screw respect, screw authority!

Losing almost all of her friends, all the moments spent with them, good and bad ones, troubles they went through together, knowledge of what to expect from them, freaking inside jokes seemed so unreal and simoly painful.

How could she be so blind? Why she didn't notice earlier?! Now it was gone.

Snide warmth under her eyelids mocked her, welling up her eyes with tears. Sharp intake of air almost became a sob. It wasn't a good moment for crying. Just few more hours and she will be all by herself. All alone with her deamons.

All this guilt, the voices in her head, it was so unbearable. The lump in her throat growing bigger and bigger. Feeling of being lost and losing so much. And that stupid little demon saying 'There is one easy solution and you know it'.

 _To znaczy tak niewiele, tylko my,  
Kto się obudzi z nas, czy ja, czy ty?  
Bo rzeczywistość była snem,  
Noc za nocą, dzień za dniem  
Czy mam powiedzieć "kocham cię",  
Czy prosić "zostań, nie zostawiaj mnie"?_

 _[It means so little, just two of us  
Who will wake up, me or you?  
'Cause reality was a dream,  
Night by night, day by day,  
Should I say 'I love you'  
Or beg 'Stay, don't leave me'?]_

Dante noticed it all. Hugging herslef so tightly, in desperate order to feel safe, arched back, head kept down, nails pushed mercilessly into arms, shaky breath and light trembling were all too clear.

Kids and Cherit didn't even look at her, Lok and Titan because of confusion, Sophie because of obvious anger. But man was watching her all this time. On the platform he took his time to ask why and listen to long, but simple story of how Zhalia became the part of Organization and in the long term, part of their team. And he couldn't blame her.

Sophie and Lok might have a feeling, that they would be brave and make different decisions, but he was adult and mature enough to know, that they will probably all do the same.

Dante just felt sorry. He knew, world wasn't the beautiful place and life was a little unfair thingy, but he never actually had to face the dark side himself. Things she experienced and was a witness to, about which she talked the way, people normally talk about unusually big dog seen on the street, were unimaginable to him. All the pain, suffering and dark spots on surface of humanity.

 _Sens niemówionych słów,  
Dźwięk niezagranych nut,  
Blask niezapalonych jeszcze lamp,  
Nie mów nic, czy słyszysz mnie  
W zamęcie wokół nas?  
Dźwięk niezagranych nut,  
Sens niewyznanych słów,  
W mrok, w tunel miłości ze mną wejdź,  
Nie mów nic, na strunach szyn  
Orkiestra może grać_

 _[Sense of unspoken words  
Sound of not played notes  
Light of the lamps, that are not turned on yet  
Don't say a thing, can you hear me  
In turmoil around us?  
Sound of not played notes  
Sense of not confessed words  
Go with me to the dark, to the tunnel of love  
Don't say a thing, orchestra can play on the strings of the rails]_

At some point, watching so much pain was too much for him. Bringing at least a slightest sunbeam into her life gave him so much joy, that he couldn't help it. Ignoring outraged Sophie's gaze, Dante stood up from his seat, then crouched right in front of hunched woman, gently realsing her arms from her nails with one hand and lifting her chin a bit with the other, just to meet her eyes.

For a second, two glassy orbs locked with two shining ambers, beautiful flicker full of gentle sunlight, before Zhalia looked down again. Only now, she ignored the fact, that they can never see each other again and let the tears flow, to feel at least a little bit of relief.


End file.
